


And a Cherry on Top

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Mentions of Solky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: At this point, Sol's used to weird things happening when he's out drinking with Axl
Relationships: Sol Badguy/Axl Low
Kudos: 15





	And a Cherry on Top

“Maaaan, I hate places like these.” Axl sulked and glared at his glass from across the counter. “Rich folks can drink their fancy-ass whatever, but why can’t they just give me a fuckin’ scotch or something? They’ve got it, why do I have to get it with fifteen other things in it?”

“Quit whining, it’s not like you’re paying for it.” Swirling his glass, Sol took another swig before sending his companion a scowl. “Don’t tell me in the 23rd century people still bitch about ‘girly drinks.’”

The Brit threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, easy, man, you know I’m not local, I’m an old-timer.”

“You’re barely thirty.”

“Hey, if we’re talkin’ cor- cron-” His expression tightened as he tried to find the word. “Like, in terms of time all going in the right direction, I’m older than you!”

“Shut up and drink already, I’m not drunk enough for this.” Sol replied with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, chief.” Axl relented and grabbed his drink. “Guess I should be happy I get to try something nice for once. What’d you end up getting?”

“Something called an ‘Ivory Tower’” He took a moment to experimentally smack his lips. “Tastes sorta like a Blue Hawaii? Tch, way too sweet for me. Ky’d probably like it, if the brat ever drank. Hell, he fucking lives in one.”

“Yeah, I already know how much you want Ky’s ivory tower, chief.”

Sol snorted into his drink. “Oh get fucked, blondie.” He gave his companion a not-so-friendly punch to the shoulder.

“Well, that’s the goal.” Axl sent back a cheeky smile. He watched Sol down half of his glass in one swig. “Shit, did you even taste that?”

“Don’t care. Slower I drink means the longer it takes to get drunk.”

“Jeez…” He slapped the counter to try and get the bartender’s attention. “Oi, keep. ‘nother round.”

The man on the other side nodded curtly and got to work retrieving bottles, but with an obvious scowl. “Dunno what his damage is.” Axl muttered, polishing off his own drink. “Only used to servin’ rich folks, I bet. Can’t stand bein’ in the same room with folks like us. Ugh, this’s got way too much sour mix in it-”

Another punch to the shoulder, less harsh but still pretty painful. “Fuckin’ ow, what was that for?”

“Can it already, will ya? ‘m _really_ not drunk enough for this.”

Another blue-tinged drink was placed in front of Sol. “Here you are, sir.”

Axl was quiet for a moment, before sighing. “...not gonna lie, that kinda looks tasty.” He rapped his knuckles against the countertop again. “Hey, barkeep. Mind hookin’ me up?”

“If you insist.” The man replied, with more than a little disgust in his tone.

Sol rolled his eyes and reached for his drink. Right before he could, though, it was snatched away. He turned to find Axl scrutinizing it, lifting the glass and looking at it from different angles under the dim bar lights.

“The fuck’s your problem?”

“Easy, mate, just wanted a look.” After a few more moments, he offered it back. “Hey, uh, you gonna eat that stuff on top?” He asked, pointing at the chunks of fruit suspended over the rim by a toothpick shoved through.

“Guess I don’t care. Knock yourself out.”

“Aww, you’re too good to me, chief.” With a little triumphant noise, Axl plucked the fruit off the top and slid the cherry off the end of it. “Hey, do ya have that same thing in America?”

Sol looked over out of the corner of his eye. “Hnnh?”

“It used to be a thing, like, if you could knot a cherry stem with your tongue, supposed to mean you’re good at kissin’. You ever try it?”

“That’s stupid.” He replied. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t make much sense.” Despite that, Axl put the end in his mouth and started trying to move it around.

The Gear raised an eyebrow, reaching for his drink again. “Aaaand of course you’re doing it anyway.”

“Pithh oth, okay? I’m tryin’ to cothentrate-”

“If you choke on that, I’m not giving you CPR.”

“Bleh-” Axl spit it back out, looking at the object with scorn. “Just as well, I’m pretty sure you’d crush my ribcage.”

“Yknow that’s how CPR is _supposed_ to work, right?”

He shook his head. “There’s a difference between ‘broken’ and ‘shattered into tiny little bits of bone.’” He watched Sol take another swig. “You’re chatty. Guess that means the alcohol’s kickin’ in?”

Of course, he didn’t get a response to that. “...jackass.” Axl moved to give the cherry stem another attempt, but the bartender appeared to place another glass in front of him. As soon as he moved to grab it, Sol’s gloved hand reached over to swipe away his stick of fruit from right off of his drink. “Wh- hey!”

Sol sent him a vicious grin. “You took mine. Now it’s fair.”

“Seriously? Taking my cherry?” He offered a crooked smile back. “Figured you’d prefer Ky’s- agh, _FUCK!”_

Damn, the guy had a harder head than he’d expected. Or maybe he was just getting so drunk he couldn’t throw a right punch. Sol shook his hand out and waited for the stinging in his knuckles to subside. “If you mention him one more time I’m gonna rip your frontal lobe out through your fuckin’ ear.”

“Pretty sure ya broke it already, yeesh.” Axl put a hand to the side of his head. “What, ‘re you gonna give it a go now, too?”

“Might as well.” He responded frankly, nipping the fruit off its stem.

“Huh. Yeah, you’re definitely smashed, mate.”

It was hard not to take it as a challenge. Though neither man would admit it, the hurried way they went about trying to do their small, pointless task was a dead giveaway, as was their frequent glances towards one another to see if they were falling behind.

What they failed to account for, obviously, was the fact that they were both elbow-deep in empty drink glasses- Sol’s was larger, of course, but only due to his alcohol tolerance- and it had definitely begun sinking in, drunkenly slurring their words and swaying on their barstools like the simple task of sitting in place had become too complicated.

“Got it.” With a loud hock, Sol coughed out a twisted-up cherry stem and more than a little spit, which thankfully managed to mostly limit itself to the squares of napkins that had accumulated on the counter with every drink. Sure enough, a knot had been tied, right in the middle.

“Wha-” Even through the encroaching drunken stupor, Axl still managed to look incredibly impressed. He spit out his own stem, in a half-done loop. “Holy shit! Guess that means you’re a good snog, chief!”

“M’be. I dunno. You tell me.”

Before he could properly decipher what that was supposed to mean, Sol leaned over and awkwardly pressed their lips together. Definitely chapped, a bit chilly from the ice, and cherry-flavored. Definitely strange, but it put a pleasant warmth in his belly, one he knew wasn’t coming from the alcohol.

“...woah.”

Sol tried for another roguish grin, but it came out lopsided. “Whattaya say? ‘m I good er...am I good?”

Axl threw an arm around his shoulder in an awkward hug, trying for another kiss but only managing to mash his cheek against Sol’s half-exposed chest. “Real good...y’big old bastard, I love ya…”

With an incoherent mumble, Sol dragged him up for another messy kiss. Axl responded by burying his hands in swathes of shaggy hair. In turn, large hands managed to find their way down his sides, tugging against his jacket and settling on his hips.

“Heehee, c’mere ya big lug…”

“Mnnh- so soft-”

“Ugh, not this again.” The bartender groaned, putting down his half-cleaned glass to summon a magic-com. “Security, we’ve got another one.”


End file.
